


We All Build Walls

by caityjay



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, Wynne's POV, background Zevran/female Mahariel, one-sided Alistair/female Mahariel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6230740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caityjay/pseuds/caityjay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone responds differently to injustice. A trip to the Denerim alienage makes a clear example of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We All Build Walls

**Author's Note:**

> I got really upset playing through Unrest in the Alienage. I tend to experience fantasy issues more strongly than real-life issues, because I bury real-life issues deeper than fantasy issues :P Some more notes in that vein at the end.
> 
> Alternate title: I Get Angry About Fantasy Racism So I Don't Have To Think Too Hard About Real Life Racism And Get Really Really Angry.
> 
> Randomly ended up in Wynne's POV, because it felt right. I actually played as a male Mahariel rogue, but switched genders for this because that felt right, too.
> 
> Inspired by Alistair's first line of dialogue, which is actually spoken in game. My jaw legitimately dropped when I heard him say that. Mahariel is basically me during this quest.

Since they’d first arrived in Denerim, Wynne had been eager to visit the elven alienage. She had seen only a few in her time, but had heard much about them from other Circle mages and trainees who had been raised in them. She’d heard some very different stories, and was curious to see what the Denerim alienage was like.

The fact that it had been cordoned off for some time was not something she took as a good sign.

It was for this reason that the older mage requested to join the Warden when they were sent to investigate the elven neighborhood. Wynne met up with the two Grey Wardens just outside Arl Eamon’s estate, sighing a bit inwardly when she noted the elven assassin would be joining them. She couldn’t say she was surprised; Wynne had watched the Dalish Warden become enamored with the Antivan as soon as the man had opened his mouth to plead his case. She had also seen how the elves’ involvement had affected young Alistair; since Zevran’s arrival, Alistair’s relationship with the other Warden had become strained. Wynne wasn’t certain whether the young Dalish had never noticed Alistair’s infatuation with her, or whether she had deliberately chosen to ignore it, but her relations with the Antivan assassin appeared to have made her intentions clear in any case.

But it wasn’t Wynne’s place to meddle in her young companions’ affairs. She just hoped their visit to the alienage would not be hindered by any petty squabbles.

Compared to the bustling marketplace, the outer edge of the alienage was oddly quiet. Wynne found it difficult to believe this was all on account of the high walls separating it from the rest of the city. As they walked down the pitted, muddy roads (if they could be called roads), she thought she realized what was strange about the place: where were the children? On the other side of these walls, dozens of human children ran playing through the streets. When she looked around here, Wynne couldn’t see a single child.

When she glanced at the Warden, Wynne could see _vallaslin_ starkly contrasted on a face that had gone pale. There were people—young and old—crouched in doorways or huddled up against the sides of buildings. Many of them were sick, Wynne realized, and as they moved deeper into the alienage, she noticed bodies piled in alleyways. People avoided their small party; they knew these were outsiders, and the elves here had good reason to mistrust outsiders.

“Uhm,” Alistair looked almost as uncomfortable as the other Warden. Zevran, of course, appeared unfazed as usual. “We’re not going to be mobbed, right? Is that something elves do here? Mob people?”

Wynne’s eyebrows twitched up, but her gaze was drawn to the other Warden, who had stopped abruptly. Zevran was wearing a smirk, and had stepped off to the side, as though to watch an amusing development. Alistair turned when he realized they’d stopped, blinking back at them curiously.

The Dalish Warden’s eyes closed, and she took a steadying breath. “Do you generally expect to be mobbed by elves, Alistair, or only when there are very many of them in one place?”

Alistair stuttered, but the other Warden continued. “Are we walking through the same town? Are you seeing the same things I am seeing, here? Do you see all this… this neglect, this suffering, and think, ‘I wonder if they’re going to mob us?’”

“I—”

“It is selfish, thoughtless, and insulting,” she interrupted in a hiss. “ _Dirthara-ma_.”

Wynne did not recognize this phrase, but it was spoken with vehemence, and—to her surprise—raised Zevran’s eyebrows.

“Now, Warden, I doubt he meant any harm...”

“I expect better than this kind of ignorance and prejudice from a man I’ve called brother.”

Alistair looked struck. The Dalish Warden stood stiffly, small in her leather gear, and dwarfed by the taller Warden in his heavy armor. But the hard way she looked straight ahead, avoiding Alistair’s stricken gaze, made her appear the larger one.

After a tense moment of silence, Alistair found his voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said, speaking to the ground. “I didn’t think before I spoke. This… the state of this place, it’s…” He swallowed. “It’s not a place I’d want anyone I loved to be living. I’m sorry.”

The Dalish closed her eyes and appeared to collect herself. “You’re forgiven,” she said, losing some of her stiffness and finally glancing up to meet Alistair’s gaze. “And I am sorry for being harsh with you. I was… I am… affected, by this place. It is difficult to see.”

When even Zevran had no response to this, Wynne decided to move things along herself. “Let us investigate whatever it is that’s been happening, here,” she said. “We will report everything back to Queen Anora, and perhaps, once we’re through with this Blight, something can be done about it.”

The Warden took a deep breath and nodded back at her. “Yes,” she said. “Thank you, Wynne.”

_Please, don’t mention it_ , she thought to herself. And they moved on.

**Author's Note:**

> This was interesting for me to write. It was also interesting for me to experience. As a straight-identifying, middle class, cis white girl in the US, I have never experienced racism, and I have a whole lot of privilege. Playing through this game as an elf, I found myself frequently angry at people for being racist jerks. I honestly can't imagine what it would be like to deal with that kind of treatment, in real life, on a daily basis. So this was my somewhat feeble attempt at getting at some of the deeper emotions I was feeling going through the Denerim alienage, and the outrage I felt at realizing how closely this fictional situation mirrors the lives of real people in our own world right now. I feel like I barely scratched the surface, but I hope I managed at least that.


End file.
